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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29181309">i believe in the power of love</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/'>Anonymous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Schitt's Creek (TV) RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Emotions, Everyone is Single - Freeform, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Redmond is Immortal, reconnecting</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 13:15:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,207</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29181309</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“When I left the show, I ended up taking like 10 sweaters home with me that are now in boxes in my basement. I couldn't let go of them. I have such a sentimental connection to the clothes because I feel like that's all that I have left of David. I don't know what I'm gonna do with those clothes but I do like the fact that I can go down there and look at them from time to time.”<br/>- Dan Levy, The Today Show, February 3, 2021</p><p>Or, time passes, things change. But some things don't.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dan Levy/Noah Reid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>71</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Anonymous</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>i believe in the power of love</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s been years. It should feel more awkward than it does. </p><p>It’s been years and yet it hasn’t, the time after they wrapped the show existing in a viscous bubble of tuscan sunsets and screaming audiences, cake-filled photoshoots and gif-only group texts, studio time and concerning news reports, a seemingly endless tide of disappointments crashing into one glorious evening in a tent under the stars when the universe pointed at the most talented man Noah has ever had the good fortune to meet and finally said, <em> Yes, you. </em></p><p>It feels awkward in that it doesn’t feel awkward at all. </p><p>“Daniel,” he had breathed the moment the door opened and Dan, who has a word for everything, said nothing. He just stepped forward and wrapped Noah up in one of his hugs, Noah’s face finding the curve of his neck out of habit, his lips tucked between his teeth out of necessity. </p><p>He’s in town for his most recent slate of shows, finally playing the Troubadour like the legends whose footprints his shoes will never fill, and that’s okay. Noah has never wanted them to. </p><p>He pulls away, hands still gripping Dan’s sturdy shoulders and looks his fill. “Hi,” he whispers. </p><p>“Hi,” Dan replies, smiling so hard, his glasses shift up his face. “Come in, come in.” They finally let go of each other and Dan backs up, mostly to give Noah room to move past him with his bag, but also so Red can trot forward and nuzzle into Noah’s shins. </p><p>“Hey, buddy!” He immediately drops his bag so he can crouch down and take Redmond’s face in his hands, running his thumbs over his greying snout. “I missed you,” he murmurs, pressing his face to the dog’s head to hide the flush of his cheeks. Red isn’t the only one he’s missed. </p><p>“So what’s your plan?” Dan asks as Noah stands once more. “Do you have anything tonight?” </p><p>“I have a meeting with my agent at 4:30pm, but then I’m yours - Free. I mean I’m free.” His cheeks heat again as Dan just watches with growing delight. “If you are, too.” </p><p>Dan clears his throat. “No concert stuff?” </p><p>“Sound check isn’t until tomorrow.” </p><p>“I suppose I could clear my schedule,” he says in a way that makes it apparent the schedule’s been clear for quite some time. Then he looks up from under his lashes and the thick black frames aren’t enough to hide the hope in his eyes. “Dinner?” </p><p>“Love to,” Noah replies with a smile he just can’t help. </p><p>“Great. I’ll make a reservation.” </p><p>Dan shows him to the guest room, even though it’s the same one he usually stays in when he’s in town. It’s been a while though. They’re both busier; both more in demand. He files these under ‘good problems to have’ as he turns the water on for a shower, but he notices that the file in his mind is getting thicker. More jobs means less time. More opportunities to practice his craft means fewer opportunities to blend in on the street. More professional means less personal. </p><p>Good problems, but problems all the same. </p><p>He washes the flight off his body with the products Dan knows he likes; the products he bought for Noah’s first trip, which seem to have become a staple of every trip since. Noah idly wonders if they live here or if Dan only brings them out when he knows he’ll be in town. It’s not the only guest bedroom Dan has in this gorgeous house of his, but it is the only room Noah’s stayed in. Either way, the fact that Dan noticed at all warms Noah in a way that has nothing to do with the hot water beating down on his shoulders. That Dan kept noticing is what makes him Dan Levy: the best at what he does.  </p><p>Noah steps out of the shower and wraps a towel around his waist, snorting when he sees Red curled up on his bed. </p><p>“Keeping me company?” he asks, giving him a belly rub as he passes. Red barely stirs, used to Noah (and belly rubs). He pulls on a nicer pair of jeans and a sweater, topping it off with a bomber jacket he knows Dan will have opinions about, which is precisely why he packed it. </p><p>Noah opens the door and slaps his thigh, waiting patiently for the distinguished gentleman on the bed to get to his feet and stretch, before gingerly hopping down to the floor. </p><p>“Dan?” he calls as he gets to the bottom of the stairs. </p><p>“In here!” comes the reply from the vicinity of the office. “You better get going. Traffic’s been a nightmare recently.” </p><p>“When is traffic in LA ever <em> not </em> a nightmare,” Noah replies, coming to a stop in the doorway and taking great pride in the way Dan’s eyes widen when he catches sight of him. </p><p>“Nice jacket,” he murmurs, which is - not the reaction Noah had been expecting. </p><p>It’s not nice. And that’s the point. He’s had it for years - it’s perfectly worn in, possibly even a little frayed. It’s the exact kind of thing Dan would have a snarky comment for. </p><p>Maybe time has changed that, too. </p><p>“Um, you’re welcome to take my car,” Dan offers instead, fishing the keys from his pocket, like he’s been waiting to hand them over. </p><p>“You sure? I really can just grab an uber.” </p><p>“It’ll be faster. And I’m not going anywhere.” </p><p>“Okay. Thanks, Daniel,” he murmurs, holding out his hand, and Dan carefully places the keys in his palm, holding his gaze longer than strictly necessary. “I don’t think this will take long.” </p><p>“Won’t take long?” Dan laughs. “Your series is about to premiere. You’ll be lucky if you get out of there with this ensemble intact. They’ll all want a piece of you.” Then he raises one of those perfect eyebrows. “Though it looks like someone might have beaten them to it,” he says, gesturing to a small hole in the elastic of the jacket’s cuff. </p><p><em> There it is. </em> Noah is honestly relieved. </p><p>“Well, I’m banking on the fact that LA agents over-schedule and under-elaborate, so make the reservation for whenever you want.” He raises the keys with a wink. “I’ll be careful.” </p><p>“See that you do,” Dan replies, crossing his arms over his chest, and Noah tamps down the desire to hug him again. To pull his arms apart and step into the space they make, pressing into Dan’s chest and burying his face in his shoulder. </p><p>He just got here. He’s not ready to walk away yet. Even if walking away just means a roundtrip from Los Feliz to Culver City.  </p><p>His Canadian agent is still his lead, but LA wants to keep tabs on him, especially as more and more American offers crop up. A stop in LA always means swinging by their offices, but Pam has been keeping them up to date, so he wasn’t wrong - it doesn’t take long. In fact, he spends more time in the car going to and from than he does in the actual meeting. Still, it was nice to catch up with Andrew. ‘Face time’ as the Hollywood types love to say. </p><p>He’s just pulling back into the driveway and buzzing himself through the gate when he thinks he should have given Dan a heads up that he was on his way. Noah has no idea what time their reservation is for, or where they’re going, but Dan probably could have planned better with the knowledge. He likes to plan. </p><p>Noah leaves the car in the driveway and pulls the front door key from his pocket, letting himself into the home that’s his for all intents and purposes for the next four days, if not longer. Dan would happily let him stake his claim for however long he wished, Noah knows this. He’s seen it in his eyes when Dan thinks he isn’t looking. </p><p>It’s… a lot. </p><p>He pushes the front door open to the quiet foyer and listens for any noise, but nothing comes. </p><p>“Dan?” </p><p>Still nothing. </p><p>The jingle of Redmond’s collar finally breaks the silence before the dog makes his appearance a moment later, padding across the foyer and dropping a stuffed toy by Noah’s feet before nudging it with his nose. </p><p>“Hey, bud,” he murmurs, picking up the toy and tossing it a short distance away. Redmond can’t run as fast as he used to. </p><p>But Red stays where he is, plopped down in front of Noah’s shoes, staring at him with the kind of judgment he definitely learned from his father.  </p><p>“Whatcha doin, huh?” He bends down to scratch behind his ears. “Where’s Dad?” </p><p>Red whines and trots off towards the kitchen, but not before bumping the open doorway in the hall that leads to the basement. Noah’s never been down there before - he’s had no need to - but Dan said he’d had nowhere to be and now he’s not answering and Noah’s never seen that door open before, so by process of elimination, Dan must be there. He shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over the bannister before opening the door further and heading down the stairs. </p><p>He expects to find a typical basement filled with piles of boxes Dan doesn’t want anyone to see, which there are - but what Noah doesn’t expect to find is Dan sitting in front of one, silent and still, staring into it like it holds all of the stories he eventually wants to tell. </p><p>“Hey, what’s all this?” Noah asks, and Dan jumps like Noah pressed a taser to his back. </p><p>“Oh, it’s nothing,” Dan blurts, scrambling to his feet and brushing off his pants. “Ready?” </p><p>“Yeah... but are you?” Noah glances between his anxious expression and the open box behind him. “I’m earlier than I thought I’d be. We don’t have to go yet if you’re in the middle of something.” </p><p>“No, I’m - I’m good,” Dan replies, clearing his throat and adjusting his glasses.</p><p>Noah doesn’t buy it for a moment. “Uh huh.” He saunters over, stuffing his hands in his pockets with a grin on his face. “Is this where the outtakes from The Home Edit live? Things too messy even for the professionals?” </p><p>And Dan’s face does something… awful. </p><p>Noah meant it as a tease, a gentle poke at the fact that Dan’s life is categorized <em> precisely </em> the way he wants it to be. But the expression morphing Dan's features makes Noah feel unsure, wrong-footed, <em> awkward </em> for the first time since he stepped through the door earlier that afternoon. </p><p>It’s too late, though; he’s in front of the box and he glances down because he just can’t help himself - </p><p>And he stares at a familiar pattern on fabric he knows the softness of, orange on black, flames burning his hand the first time he touched it as acutely as if he had set his palm to fire. </p><p>“It’s nothing,” Dan says again, sounding a little desperate, like that could possibly encompass all that Noah’s feeling. </p><p>Noah never did learn which designer made which sweater, but he knows them all. Every single one. He gently shifts the open mic night one out of the way to see the birthday lightning bolt beneath it; the first meeting stripes, the second kiss leopard print, the <em> I love you </em>wings, the proposal fur. The Meet the Parents declaration: </p><p><em> I believe in the power of love. </em> </p><p>“Daniel,” he breathes, swallowing hard. He hasn’t said or heard these words in so long, but they come naturally. Because what else could he possibly say in this moment? “This is not nothing.” </p><p>But Dan is already shaking his head. “I’m just being sentimental. Silly, really - ”</p><p>“The dark blue shirt,” Noah interrupts. </p><p>“What?” </p><p>“The dark blue shirt. The one I was wearing when you came into Ray’s,” he murmurs, heart pounding. “It's in the back of my closet next to the light blue one from Grad Night. And the night at Stevie’s sweater. The proposal hoodie. The party shirt - ” </p><p>“Like anyone else would have fit into that - ” Dan scoffs with a wet laugh, but Noah keeps going, rattling them off. The things he’s kept. The pieces of Patrick that he hopes will never leave him. </p><p>When he’s finished, his breath gusts out in uneven pants, afraid he’s both said too much and not enough. </p><p>“I, uh, I guess I’m not the only one then.” Dan gestures to the box, swallowing hard. “It’s all I have left of David.” </p><p>Noah gently runs his thumb over the wording of the sweater from Meet the Parents, well aware that the shirts Dan has kept all mark major moments of David and Patrick’s relationship. “Of us.” </p><p>“Yeah,” Dan rasps, the brokenness of his voice causing Noah to look up once more. And what he sees in Dan’s face gives him hope.  </p><p>“That’s not true,” he whispers, putting the flamed shirt back in the box and stepping forward to set himself on fire once more. “You have me.” </p><p>Kissing Dan is not all that dissimilar from kissing David and yet it is. It’s both a habit and a revelation, familiar and axis-tilting.</p><p>It’s been years. It should feel awkward. </p><p>Instead, it feels like coming home.</p>
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